


Itsy Bitsy Spider

by That_brunette_in_red



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Martin is sassy, Spiders, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5 Trailer, Web Avatar Martin Blackwood, jonmartin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29980170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_brunette_in_red/pseuds/That_brunette_in_red
Summary: Did someone say Web!Martin?////An alternate look on if Annabelle had made good on her filling Martin with spiders threat (based loosely off of episode 197)
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood
Kudos: 2





	Itsy Bitsy Spider

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn't love some good ol' Martin Blackwood angst and sadness? Anyway if you comment/kudos I will platonically hold your hand very gently with your consent
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angst, depressing thoughts, body horror/spiders

Martin's eyes were open. 

They were open and, for perhaps the first time, _seeing._

The web was huge -- long strands of black webbing, spiralling tighter and tighter onto itself, their lives woven into the very fabric. He would have laughed if he had the energy. The Spider was not the most subtle of horrors; metaphors it thought were shrouded in darkness were really just glaringly obvious reflections. 

Scattered amongst the webbing sat the tape recorders, whirring quietly, a sound barely picked up over the drone of none other than Jon's voice, overlapping and cascading and so _enveloping_ Martin found it was difficult to focus on anything else.

"Are we really doing this creepy, web... thing? Fate and all that? We both know what I'm here for."

"You're here for Jon," came the soft and monotone drone, drifting across the area and dancing across the webs. Martin folded his arms. 

"I'm here to _help_ Jon."

"I know."

"We're not doing this, this whole-- this whole metaphor of the Spider luring the fly, all right? I don't have time for that," he dismissed, standing quite literally in the center of the web and feeling the irony of his words. Jon would be amused.

"You're not the fly, Martin." Annabelle's voice was carrying along the web, Martin turned and suddenly she was beside him, smiling a gentle smile -- her eyes were glittering, dark. "This is for Jon."

"I can't help but feel that you're literally luring him into a trap. This trap. Right here."

"You're not bait, you're just... an invitation." Annabelle cocked her head. "You know that the only one in any _actual_ danger is going to be me."

"Forgive me if I don't feel any sympathy." This was okay, Martin told himself, he was just suspended over the edge of fucking nowhere with _nowhere_ to go, but Jon needed an out. 

"What would happen if you were to die, here?" His stomach plummeted. He tried not to look down.

"Um -- been considering it, have you?" Martin clenched his jaw, sighed shakily. "He wouldn't let that happen."

"Why? Love?"

Martin scoffed, said, "Y-yeah, yeah you know what? Yes. He loves me, so he'll come." Martin wasn't a fool; run off after a lover's spat and eventually said love will return to you. He wasn't insecure in Jon's love for him. "Look, I need to know that you won't... hurt him."

"I promise not to lay a hand on him."

"Not good enough." Martin locked eyes with her, tried to pick two to focus on.

"I promise... under my watch, no harm will come to him by my hand, or any others." 

Martin had always hated how the Web wove their speech, intricate with lies, double standards and aggressive truths. The metaphorical, while easily understood, grew tiring.

"Well -- w-good. Good." He sounded uncertain, even to his own voice. He tried to fix his posture, appear braver than he felt.

Then something was creeping along the back of his neck, and another on his arm, another on his cheek. He yelped, swatting spiders from his skin, sputtering pointlessly.

"I'm sorry I can't make the same promise for you, Martin."

Martin's breathing hitched, a nervous chuckle in his voice when he asked "What? You just said -- "

"You're the invitation," Annabelle said soothingly, "that doesn't mean you have to be alive when he gets here."

_"Why?"_

"There are worlds, Martin, and a path Jon has to take. You're a distraction," she said plainly, too calmly, and Martin had nowhere to turn and there were spiders _everywhere_ he could not flick them away from him and his cries of shocked indignation changed to cries of fear -- and Martin staggered as the swarming mass of spiders consumed him.

////

Martin's eyes were open. 

They were open, and he was crying -- or, had been, in the final moments before black liquid flooded through him and he appeared to be crying pure black, but there was a movement there Basira prayed she was wrong about. 

Basira's stomach flipped and she staggered to a knee, breathing shakily as she took in the horrid sight of spiders -- _millions of them --_ spilling from Martin's eyes, his slack mouth. The holes punctured into his skin wept small spiders like blood, steady streams of it down his too-pale skin. His glasses lay beside him, shattered. 

"Martin!" Jon's distant call; Basira's breath caught. No, no, she couldn't let him see -- 

He deserved to know.

Basira released a shaky breath. "Jon," she wavered, all pretense of strength long since drained. She didn't rise, didn't look up as she felt more than heard Jon move to stand near her. 

There was a silence, so tense Basira held her breath, didn't dare shoot Jon a glance for fear of what she would find in his reflection. The shaky breathing was enough to tell her a freak out probably was not far away. 

Then, a ragged, "Can I have a moment?" 

Basira tensed, glancing rapidly around them. No sign of Annabelle yet, and if she'd done this to _Martin_ what could she do to them? They would be no help dead and -- 

And Jon looked... traumatized.

"Please, Basira, I -- _please."_

Pursing her lips, Basira withdrew, and when she was out of sight, Jon crumpled. He knew. He knew what happened without having to look through the Eye, of course he fucking knew, the Spider was anything but subtle and the spiders flooding Martin's body was an obvious sign. 

There was a tape recorder, with a tape sitting innocently inside.

On its own accord, Jon's scarred and shaking hand closed over it, holding it as a precious thing, all he had left of Martin -- and it probably was. He couldn't tear his eyes away from him, even as he pressed play and all he wanted was to hurl it from him. He didn't want to _know_ anymore, he didn't want this, he didn't want Martin to be -- 

The tape recorder kicked into a familiar whirring hum and Jon braced himself, eyes blankly trailing a spider's path across Martin's smooth cheek. 

"Hello, Jon. I figured the following recording would... ignite that spark you'll need for what comes next. Don't bother wondering how I know, it should be obvious by now, yes? I'm sure you've figured it all out by the time you listen to this.

"You're not going to like me after this. I think... I think you're going to kill me, that's the only logical move you _could_ make. There is another way this world can end, Archivist. I just need you to make the correct choice. There are worlds beyond our own and the Web needs to breach these worlds to survive..."

And Jon tried not to tune out the drone of her voice while she prattled on about choices, about the survival of humanity and the Fears and the Web and bridges to other worlds.

"I helped you," Annabelle said in that condescending way of hers that made Jon tense right up. Even now, even through the veil of the recording, his skin crawled. He pointedly did not look at Martin. "You won't see it that way, I'll be gone by the time you reach him anyway. I'm sorry, Jon, but distractions will not help you. This is the catalyst, and you needed one. There are two ways this could go, Jon, and you need to choose the correct path."

A click -- the sound of someone walking, faint, and Jon's own voice faint over the static recording. "Are we really doing this creepy, web... thing? Fate and all that? We both know what I'm here for."

"You're here for Jon."

"I'm here to _help_ Jon."

He shut his eyes, he did not want to listen, didn't want to _know--_

Martin was speaking again. "We're not doing this, this whole-- this whole metaphor of the Spider luring the fly, all right? I don't have time for that."

His lip was trembling, his chest felt so so _heavy_ and Martin was still dead beside him and

"He wouldn't let that happen." Martin again, what would he let -- Jon couldn't bring himself to face the spiders again.

"Why? Love?"

Martin scoffed, said, "Y-yeah, yeah you know what? Yes. He loves me, so he'll come. Look, I need to know that you won't... hurt him."

"I promise not to lay a hand on him."

"Not good enough."

_Martin why didn't you leave, please, please run --_

"I promise... under my watch, no harm will come to him by my hand, or any others." The distinct crackle of static and limbs. 

"Well -- w-good. Good." He sounded uncertain, was Jon hyperventilating? His head was still spinning like a top, the ensuing silence was not a comfort -- 

"I'm sorry I can't make the same promise for you, Martin," and why for the sake of everything holy and good _why_ could he so clearly hear Martin's breathing hitch, the nervous chuckle when he asked "What?" 

Jon wanted to scream, he wanted to _scream_ and Annabelle was going on about fate, about connections, about someone's future tied to their past and I'm sorry to do this, Martin, but you'll only _distract_ him, we can't let emotion come into play when it is the end of the world, you _understand,_ don't you?

Then, Martin was screaming.

"No, no no no, Martin," Jon whimpered. "Fuck!" The recorder smashed against the hard ground and Jon raked trembling hands through his disheveled hair, eyes flicking to Martin's and _why didn't he close his eyes?_ "Stop this," Jon begged, supposedly to the sky of great knowledge that left his questions unanswered, such as the reeling _Why him please God not him not Martin not Martin--_ "Stop it!" 

Another cry, weak and distorted, echoed from the sparking tape recorder. Then it was over. With a warped click, it stopped, and Jon sat gasping into the open night, strangled by his very own voice, why was the sound everywhere? And Martin... was... 

"Jon?" Basira sounded tense, had something happened to her? Jon remained slumped over his knees, staring, unable to see anything even if he'd wanted to. "Jon, we have to get out of here." 

"Martin's dead," he said distantly, lamely, sounding strange to himself. All these recordings... had he always sounded this weak? Helpless?

Was he just that?

"Jon? J-Jon, look at -- hey, look at me, alright?"

"Basira... "

"We need to leave." He didn't trust the urgency in her voice, looking up he found himself staring into her familiar intense black eyes.

"Martin's dead, he... " 

"I know." Basira fell silent, pursed her lips and decided she hated every emotion flitting across Jon's face, but blank was by far the worst. "Jon, we -- we have to go, okay? I don't know where Annabelle is." 

Jon rubbed a tear off of his cheek, realised his eyes felt sore, how long had he sat there? "M-Martin's... " he wavered, throat cinched up tight, he struggled to catch his breath and another gasp escaped him and why was she staring at him like that, why was

"Jon?"

He couldn't, he _couldn't_ do this, Basira, why 

"Hey! Jon, take a deep breath, I can't do this with-- "

And Martin was gone, he was gone, the spiders were arching across his body and Jon's hand was clasping Martin's, a deadweight in his own, and Jon sobbed, and Basira hesitantly pulled him against her in something supposed to be a hug.

"Come on," she murmured, surprisingly gentle and damn it Jon, her throat was closing too and she couldn't afford to be sad. She shoved that violently behind her, she could process later -- she wouldn't think about Martin's little smile when he was pleased with himself, wouldn't think about the way she'd caught him staring off into the distance thinking about Jon, wouldn't _think_ about the way he rolled his eyes and said something sarcastic and she had to remind herself not to find it amusing. 

That all had to wait, so she coaxed Jon from the depths of his mind and helped him to his feet. He looked shell-shocked, drained, his eyes once again dull and unfeeling. Basira's chest tightened. 

She straightened up, gave him a worried look. "Right, we're going to find Annabelle, and we're going to crush her." 

Jon nodded, and the hint of a spark ignited in his eyes. This he understood, feeding this -- this _anger_ was something he could do. He inhaled, shakily, once, and then was steady -- processing what to do next. Basira ignored the tingling sensation, the energy that zipped around the air and the all-too familiar static while Jon looked through the Eye, and saw.

"This way." He wanted to spare Martin a glance, couldn't bring himself to do so -- and so Basira didn't either. They would mourn him, bring back his body when what had happened wasn't so violently... _there_. For now, they had work to do. 

Revenge to take. 

Jon squared his shoulders and pushed onwards, leaving the dark and whispering spiders with Basira alone beside him. 

////

Martin's eyes were open, and, perhaps for the first time, _seeing_. 

On shaky legs, he rose, straightened one leg out, another, another, and another, and... 

He blinked glittering eyes at the web of shadows. 

_Jon..?_


End file.
